_The Gentlewoman_, No. 1, has appeared. It gives, or rather sells, an
overwhelming lot for the money, which is sixpence. Sixpenn'orth of
all sorts. Plenty of readable information. Illustrations not the best
feature in it. Crowds of advertisements. The _menus_, if carefully
sustained, may prove very useful to those who "dinna ken." As to the
type of _The Gentlewoman_, well, the first picture is of Her Imperial
Majesty the QUEEN, and with this type of the Gentlewoman we shall all
be satisfied, _dicit_ BARONIUS DE BOOK-WORMS.
[Illustration]
"What a sight o' Books!" cries the Baron, remembering the clever
Parrot who uttered a similar exclamation at a Parrot Competition.
First, here is _Blossom Land and Fallen Leaves_, by CLEMENT SCOTT,
published by HUTCHINSON & CO., which is an interesting and useful book
to those who are able to take a holiday in Cromer, and marvel at the
sunset, and notice how "in the far distance a couple of lovers advance
towards the fading light"--I'll be bound that deeply engaged couple
didn't catch sight of the "chiel takin' notes"--and how did _he_ know
for certain they were a couple of lovers? Why not brother and sister?
Why not husband and wife? Why not uncle and aunt?--but with an
experienced eye the canny SCOTT made a pretty shrewd guess--and it
is a pleasant companion, is this book, to those who cannot visit
Cromer, or any of the other places mentioned in _Blossom Land_, and
who reading it at home will only wish they could do so, and will
promptly make arrangements for paying (the "paying" _is_ the
difficult part) a visit not only to Cromer but also to Caen, Etretat,
Cabourg,--carefully noting C.S.'s account of his "cruise upon wheels,"
and his sensible remarks on Parisianising these otherwise tranquil
resorts. From Havre to Hammersmith is a bit of a jump, but it is from
a bustling port to a peaceful spot--"a Harbour of Refuge" at Nazareth,
where the Baron sincerely trusts the good Little Sisters of the Poor
are no longer Poor-rated £120 per annum, just by way of parochial
encouragement, I suppose, to other charitable persons for relieving
the parish "of an incubus of four hundred." The work of these
self-sacrificing women cannot be over-rated in one sense, but in the
parochial sense (if parochials have any) they can hardly be rated
enough. Really a delightful book for all comers and goers.
"What have we here?" inquires the Baron--_Seven Summers, An Eton
Medley, by the Editors of the Parachute and Present Etonian_. Now,
Heaven forgive my ignorance, but I have never seen the _Parachute_
nor the _Present Etonian_, so without prejudice I dip into this book,
and am at once much interested and amused by a paper "On Getting Up."
Not "getting up" linen, or "getting up lessons," but getting up in
the morning, ever a hard-worker's hardest task. It will remind many
a middle-aged Etonian of the days when he was very young, and early
school was very early. "The Inner Man" is another amusing paper, and
forty years has made no alteration in the "sock-cad." American slang
has evidently tinged Etonian style. "What in the name of purple
thunder," and "in the name of spotted Moses," and so forth, are
Americanisms, and the tone of these two smart Etonian writers has a
certain Yankee ring in it. Why not leave this sort of thing to MARK
TWAIN, BRET HARTE & CO., who are past masters of their own native
slang? _Seven Summers_ will interest and amuse Etonians of all ages.
And here, attracted by a quaintly-designed cover, the Baron takes up
_Ballads from Punch, and other Poems_, by WARHAM ST. LEGER, published
by DAVID STOTT. That a considerable number of these have appeared in
_Mr. Punch's_ pages, by whose kind permission they are reprinted, is
quite sufficient guarantee for their excellence. _The Lay of the Lost
Critic, The Plaint of the Grand Piano_, are capital specimens of the
author's humour, and _Christmas Eve_ of his true pathos. No influence
of American humour visible in any of these. As a rule, the Baron
doesn't recommend betting, but advises his readers to go in for this
St. Leger.
The contents of _The Universal Review_ this month are varied,
interesting, but not sensational. The article on Westminster Abbey, by
FREDERICK GEORGE LEE, D.D., with its humorous notes and observations,
will have a charm for many readers, and so will that on the painter
BERNADINO LUINI. The novel entitled, _The Wages of Sin_, is now at
the first chapter of the fifth book, and there is an illustration
representing a lady in a Victoria pulling up in Waterloo Place.
Underneath is the legend--"She leaned forward smiling, beckoning as
the Victoria drew up against the curb." First, she is not leaning
forward; secondly, she doesn't appear to be "smiling;" thirdly, she
doesn't seem to be "beckoning;" and, fourthly, though the horse is
being pulled back, probably on the "curb," yet, if the author means
that the carriage is being pulled up against the pavement, then
why didn't he say so, and write it "kerb?" I like being a trifle
hypercritical just now and then, says THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
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